If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?
I finally found a comfortable spot and he ruined it within minutes, waking up, shoving me underneath his weight, crushing my mouth against his with a kiss in the dark followed by his hand wrapping around the back of my head to keep me there, his other hand sliding down around my body to bring me up close. That kiss was it and then he was inside me, every thrust so fierce I would let out an uncomfortable cry. Jesus Christ. This is too hard, too deep, too fast. I try to give him a safe word but I don't want to wake up the others, sleeping soundly all around me. The cries wake them up anyway and they move in to block, to comfort and to join. The wolf pack. Different in the dark as they devour their prey. Content to leave whatever's left and hunt again, night after night while the sheep has a thousand lives, her flesh matted with sweat, with the cloying residue of one love gone right and one missed altogether. This one, the one with the medium blue eyes never does let up, save to move his hand from the back of my head to around my throat, and I miss the chance to breathe but I never had it. He squeezes his fingers tighter, he pounds me harder still and my cries vanish into the night as he peaks into an explosion, mercifully letting go as soon as it's over. I don't want to be a bystander, I want to be a participant but he leaves and the spot is cold suddenly.
It's shame that drives him away. It's me that will bring him back. I'm not concerned. I couldn't leave him to sleep alone, apart from us and this is what it cost.
Besides, his place is immediately taken by the favourite. The one with the striking colouring, telltale freckles and the most tender heart, after mine. The one who makes a huge effort to make it fun, make it good, make me come before he gets going and then again right as he does too. His arms are a safe haven, a gift and I unclench my whole body, suddenly racked by a bliss I can't describe as he moves surely over me. His cheek rests against my temple, his kisses taste sweet, we have a practised, subliminal response to each other, our bodies fitting perfectly. Nothing hurts but nothing is too light, everything so hot and intense we simulate daylight there, for a moment, blink and you've missed it. When he finds his own bliss within me he makes that sound I love more than anything, that sound of pure euphoria and contentment, the signal that everything is okay and he remains, he won't leave, settling in against me, pulling me in tight against his chest, putting his hands up around my head again, this time in protection instead of lust. Within the hierarchy of the wolves it isn't the largest that it is the leader, it is the one I love most.